


So Deep And Down We Go

by astraLazuli



Series: The Collision of Your Kiss [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Incubus Dave, Potentially Dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraLazuli/pseuds/astraLazuli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jade Harley and you are a skilled demon hunter. However, you might just have met your match in the pale haired incubus who's made your city his stalking ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Deep And Down We Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FretfulFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FretfulFlower/gifts).



Your name is Jade Harley and you are on the hunt. Hidden away in a beaten up Toyota with a pair of binoculars and a thermos of the strongest coffee that can be brewed, you sit patiently in wait.

This area isn’t your usual stalking grounds. Normally you find yourself in dark back alleys and cemeteries, places where people take unwittingly unwise short cuts and find themselves in peril. This place is bright, bustling; exactly the kind of place your prey generally avoids. But not this night. Tonight you are stalking a different kind of prey, the type drawn to the roaring energy provided by the countless clubs found along this street. But for all the noise of swarms of people wandering the night, things are unsettlingly quiet on the demon hunting front.

Maybe unsettling isn’t the word. More like irritating. For all your practiced patience, this inaction is starting to grate on you tonight. You have a knot growing in your back, and your trigger finger is starting to itch.

Lately there’s been a spree of attacks along this strip of city, of folks turning up barely breathing with only the faintest memories of the night before. And those were the lucky ones. You know the culprit only too well: white blonde hair, ridiculous sunglasses, and a smile that could cut glass. An incubus.

You’d run into this particular incubus several times before. The first time was in the alley behind a nearby club, on his knees, going down on some poor girl. You raised your rifle and fired a warning shot into the pavement a foot from him. He rose and you settled your sight dead center on his chest. Then he flashed you that damn smile. You froze. Sirens blared along the main street, and he gave you a quick salute before dashing away. Cursing under your breath, you sling your rifle over your shoulder and scooped up his victim, quickly shuffling off. While you might be on the same side, you and the authorities weren’t on the best of terms, and you didn’t want to risk getting caught with your rifle on the streets again.

The next few times were much of the same, you getting within firing distance and then something, always something, seeming to happen that allows him to escape. Your subconscious nags you that you’re going soft, falling victim to his wiles, but you just push that thought deep, deep down. It was a fluke of circumstance. Maybe he had some sort of luck powers or was paying off another demon who did.

You shift your weight, trying to stretch your back in the confined space. There’s no use. Sitting in this car isn’t going to get you anywhere. You pull down the visor and look in the mirror, slapping on a coat of blood red lipstick and tousling your hair so that you can blend into the club scene. Sure your practical combat boots are a dead giveaway that clubbing wasn’t your main intention tonight, but they’d have to do.

You climb out of the car, brushing your fingers against your thigh, just to confirm that your hunting knife is still secured there. You walk to the nearest club, dodging around the drunken wanderers flitting between establishments. With a giggle and a hair flip and a flash of the brightest smile you can muster, you’re in.

The crowd swarms before you, a sea of bodies writing on the dance floor. You make your way over to the bar, ordering rum and coke that you make a point of pretending to sip as you scan the club.

You sit there for the next hour, pretending to nurse your drink and fending off several unwanted suitors. No sight of the blonde incubus. There were one or two minor party demons that you managed to pick up on, but they’d have to wait for another night. Tonight you have a mission.

There is spot of silence and then the music changes. You look up toward the DJ booth and nearly choke on your beverage. There he is, bright hair shining beneath pair of chunky black headphones, fingers deftly flitting over the mixing board.

The music is hypnotizing, sounds weaving imperceptibly together, vibrating down to your bones. You are transfixed. You lose track of how long you are sitting there, feeling the bass thrumb through your body. At some point he looks up, and you could swear that he is looking straight at you. And then there’s that smile again, that goddamn smile, and you’re positive he’s seen you.

At the end of the song, he gestures to someone next to the booth, says a few words to them, passing off the headphones. He stalks towards you through the crowd, because there really is no other way to describe it than stalking. You get the sinking feeling that the tables have finally flipped completely. You knock back the entirety of your drink as he gets closer, praying the rum will settle your nerves even though you can hear your grandpa’s voice in the back of your mind telling you to never give any ounce of control that you can possibly have, that the second you let your guard down, the demons find their way in.

He’s right in front of you, that goddamn smile still spread across his lips, and he offers a hand and against all better judgement, you take it. He tugs you out of your seat and onto the dance floor. His hand remains in yours, the other finding its way to the small of your back as you sway in time to the music the replacement DJ is spinning. Everything around you slowly melts away, leaving space for nothing but the touch of his hands and the beat of the music and the feeling of his hot breath against your neck as he whispers in your ears.

And now his hands are sliding lower and your hands are sliding up his chest, and his mouth, all warm and wet, is pressed against your own and now your neck, and you’re laying down (you don’t know where) and you’re coming undressed and his teeth (those sharp, sharp teeth) are grazing the inside of your thigh followed by tiny licks and you’re both on fire and the music still pounds away and And AND

\-------

A bird’s chirping softly reaches your ears, tinkling through your hazy consciousness. You roll over and groan, silently cursing the noise for pulling you from the sleep you so desperately wanted to crawl back into. You pull the blankets over your head, the soft fabric enveloping your body.

Wait.

The sensation creeped way too far down your body. You reluctantly open your eyes and glance down, taking in your bare skin. The previous night comes back to you, first in a trickle, then a flood. Panic creeps down your spine, raising goosebumps on your arms, as you fling the blankets from your head, clinging them to your body. You have to find your clothes, you have to get out, you have to put as much distance between you and the scene of your indiscretion. But good god, you are still so tired, your bones are filled with lead. You try to drag yourself to the edge of the bed, glancing frantically around the room.

“Your clothes are on the chair.”

You freeze, slowly turning your head to see the incubus standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame. He looks at you from behind his shades, and you stare back at him apprehensively.

“It’s okay,” he says, “You can go ahead and grab them. I, uh, I washed them for you.”

You glance over and see that your clothes are neatly folded on the chair. You make an attempt to scramble over to grab them but quickly fall back on the bed.

The incubus takes a step forward as if to catch you, but he seems to think better of it. He clenches his fists at his side. “You, uh, you might wanna take it slow there. You’re going to be a bit weak for a while. I, um…” He clears his throat. “I got a little carried away last night.” He scratches the back of his head. “Sorry about that. Normally I'm pretty good about controlling that, but…” His voice trails off awkwardly.

A frustrated exclamation wondering what the hell he is going on about and why he was still there with you sits unspoken in your throat. All of the research you'd ever done pointed to incubi never hanging around post feeding, much less apologizing to their victims. Hell, it wasn't uncommon for victims of sexual feeders to turn up dead. Yet here this one was, exuding false coolness and offering you freshly laundered clothes.

“You want a minute to get dressed? You aren’t really the spitting image of comfort right now.”

That just pushes you over the edge.

“You think I’m uncomfortable because I’m naked?” you spit at him, your voice low and venomous.

“Well, yeah, I mean I know humans tend to get kinda weird about the whole nudity thing, which is kinda ridiculous, especially considering the circumstances. I mean, not like I haven’t seen you naked already…”

“That’s not why I’m uncomfortable!” you shout, cutting him off mid ramble. “I’m uncomfortable because I’ve been swindled by some incubus who took me back to his lair and now I can barely move!”

“Hey, look, I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to drain you like that. Just… There’s something about you that makes me lose control and do dumbass things!”

Holy hell, was he blushing? Did you seriously just make an incubus blush? You try to push that from your mind.

“Look here, incubus,” you say, pointing a finger at him, “I don’t care what your excuse is-”

“Dave.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Dave.”

“I- Okay?” You try to regain your composure. “Look here, Dave, I don’t care what excuse you come up with! It doesn’t fix the situation and doesn’t change the fact that you are a demon who’s killed people! Give me one good reason not to blow you away right now!”

Dave looks at you for a moment, a long one that seems to stretch further the longer it goes on. It’s obvious from the hints of emotion on his face that this is not at all going according to plan. Finally he clears his throat again. “Why don’t you get dressed?” he says softly. “The bathroom’s through that door there.”

You gape up at him. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard you. You can’t blow me away because you don’t have your rifle on you. Your knife is with your clothes over there, if you want it, ‘cause it seems pretty clear you didn’t hear the part where I said last night wasn’t normal for me and you don’t seem to care that that means I haven’t been killing anyone.” His voice is hard, with a barely perceivable tremor.

You genuinely have no idea what to say to that. “You… haven’t been killing people in the club district?” you say lamely.

“No. I might be a demon but that doesn’t make me a killer. Besides, killing is extremely uncool and as you can see, I am the epitome of cool.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Sorry about that?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles. “Look, let’s get you dressed and get you something to eat before you pass out on me again.”

You nod slowly and attempt again to pull yourself up onto your feet. This time you manage to make it vertical, still clinging the blankets to your body, and take three small steps toward the chair before the weight in your legs and the swirling in your head take their toll and you lose your balance. In the blink of an eye, Dave is at your side, catching you before you hit the floor.

“Careful!” he says, lowering you back down onto the bed. “Look, why don’t you just stay there and I’ll get the clothes.”

“Fine,” you say weakly, holding a hand to your forehead. You wish your head would stop spinning.

He steps over and grabs the stack of clothes, placing them next to you on the bed.

You look at them somewhat sheepishly. “Would you, ah….”

Dave shrugs. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He leaves the room, hands shoved in his pants pockets, and closes the door behind him.

You sigh, pulling the stack of clothes towards you. This situation is less than ideal, sure, and you really just have no idea what to do with it. No idea what to do with an incubus with morals, with an incubus you make blush, with that weird feeling you get in your belly every time you see him. Whatever. You’re Jade Harley. You can deal with all that later. Right now you just need to focus on getting dressed and getting the hell out of here.

In a few moments, and with a bit of falling over while trying to tug on your panties, you manage to get dressed. There is a soft knock at the door before it opens a crack and Dave peaks inside.

“You decent?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He pushes the door open the rest of the way and walks in with a tray filled with food. Setting the tray down on the bed next to you, he says, “You’re going to need to eat, if not now, then soon, so I grabbed you a few things.” The tray is filled with buttered toast and scrambled eggs and apple juice.

“Thanks,” you mutter, picking up piece of toast.

The two of you sit in silence as you nibble away at your toast, unsure of what the next move is. Every bit of training in you says to run away as fast as possible, but your instinct isn’t so sure. Plus, you’re hardly in any condition to be running away.

“You can stay a bit longer, you know,” Dave says, breaking the silence. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You don’t need to leave immediately. You’ve gotta be exhausted and I can’t rightly let you go walking the streets in this condition. You’d be dead within minutes.”

“I’ll have you know,” you say indignantly, “I am still perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Yeah, alright Miss Demon Hunter. I’m sure the fact that you can barely stand won’t get in the way of that at all. It definitely won’t impair your abilities or make you vulnerable to the massive number of far less friendly demons who’d like to see your head on a stick.”

You wince slightly at his words because, really, he’s right. If someone were to attack you right now, as much as you’d like to think otherwise, you’d be helpless.

“Just stay here until you regain a bit more of your strength,” he says imploringly. “It looks like you’re recovering pretty quickly, so you should be mostly better by tonight. You can leave then.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re giving me that much of a choice.”

“Oh, the choice is still yours. Just, please stay. Consider it a personal favor to me. I’d really hate for you to end up dead.”

You snort. “That’s a beautiful sentiment.” You consider it for a moment. “Fine. I’ll stay, just because you asked and I feel bad for accusing you of being a murderer.”

“Ah yes, the pity card wins again,” he grins, flashing those sharp teeth at you. Your stomach does a backflip.

You take a deep sip of apple juice to give yourself something to do, so that you don’t have to say anything, because you really don’t trust yourself right now.

You lapse back into silence as you continue to eat, Dave occasionally stealing a bite of toast or sip of juice. When you’ve cleared the tray, he picks it up and makes for the door, leaving you to go back to sleep.

When you wake up, the sun is already sinking in the sky. You climb out of the bed, thankful to find that as Dave promised you are now pretty steady on your legs. You walk over the chair in the corner to pick up your knife and find that there is a note tucked underneath it.

“sorry to dash on you, ive got a gig i need to get to. help yourself to anything in the fridge. if you want, you know where to find me. - dave”

Carefully folding the note, you tuck it in your pocket, strap the knife back on your thigh, and exit the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I know it's not terribly cuddly or smutty, but I hope it hits the spot. I might continue this AU at some point, but for now, consider this the one shot beginning of a long relationship between a demon hunter and her incubus soon to be boyfriend.


End file.
